The Shadows When You Sleep
by MyImmortal329
Summary: Insomnia can be awful, but sometimes, he doesn't mind, because he gets to watch her sleep.


Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead.

The Shadows When You Sleep

As a boy, sleep had been hard to come by. The screams, the pounding of fists on walls, fists on flesh, glass breaking as it hit the linoleum floor. It had never become just background noise. He had never gotten used to it. Sleep had come on the school bus or at school or right after school before his daddy was too drunk, too loud. It had been better when Merle had been home, because he'd usually just sneak into his brother's room and sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag. Before their mama died, she'd taken most of the beatings, but after she'd died, after Merle'd run off, his daddy would come in at two, sometimes three in the morning with a belt, the stinging snap of sharp leather breaking his skin waking him from whatever half-sleep he might have been in. No, sleep had never been easy.

He'd grown up, taken to drinking a beer before bed to loosen up. Sometimes he'd jerk off into the towel he kept by his bed, something to wear himself out. Occasionally, a woman would share his bed, but she'd always sneak out before morning. They'd always ask him to take his shirt off, and when he'd refuse, they'd get weird but be kind enough to stay until he at least fell asleep. But he'd always feel the bed shift as they got up to make a beeline for the door. He had never much cared either way.

Then the Turn came, and he'd been in his element. He'd become a night owl by pure necessity, and he'd always been the first to take watch. Sleep would always come easier after being on watch all night. Until Sophia disappeared. Then every sound in the woods was her, every snap of a twig was her coming back to fulfill the hope he'd given her mother.

Then the ugly truth came crashing down, and he'd let her down. He'd let Sophia down, let Carol down, let himself down. He'd taken it upon himself to not let that child become another victim to this shitty world, and the painful truth remained that she was dead the moment Rick left her in the woods. He'd spent many sleepless nights listening to her crying herself to sleep, hating himself for it, blaming himself for Sophia's fate, even taking it out on her. On Carol.

 _"All you had to do was keep an eye on her!"_

And then Beth. She was supposed to be different, supposed to be the one he saved. All he had to do was keep an eye on her, keep her alive. And he couldn't even do that. She was just a kid, and she slipped away.

The scars he carried on his back were nothing compared to the memories that kept him awake at night. She'd broken down a few weeks back, and he'd found her slumped over on the kitchen floor, head in her hands, sobbing. He'd sat with her, silent, waiting, a warm body to talk to if she'd needed. And she had. She'd told him about the girls, about Lizzie and Mika, about telling Tyreese about Karen and David. He'd scooted up right beside her, unsure of what to do except be there, physically, and she had leaned on him, put her head on his shoulder and just let it all out. And he'd said nothing, through it all. And when she was all cried out, she'd thanked him, as if he'd been some great help. He'd done nothing. Said nothing. But after that? She'd been herself again. She'd smiled the way she used to back at the prison. She was laughing again. Things weren't perfect, but she was happier now.

Now, he lay wide awake, body exhausted, mind reeling, and he couldn't come to put the pieces together that had led up to this night. They'd been talking. They'd been walking from Aaron and Eric's house. They'd gotten home to an empty house, and then someone had made a move. She'd looked at him, and he'd wanted to kiss her, and he couldn't remember who kissed who first, because frankly, it was all one big blur. But now, now she was sleeping right beside him, bare and exposed as the soft yellow glow of the bedside light filled the room.

She lay on her side, face partially hidden by the arm that she rested her head upon. Her breasts, small and round, nipples hardened by the cool night air were partially shadowed. Her hair was a mess, sticking up in every which way, and he couldn't help but smile as he gently traced his knuckles along the curve of her hip, watching her skin turn to gooseflesh at the sensation.

He shivered as the cool breeze from the open window hit his back. He'd never wanted anyone to see those scars, ugly and deep, reminders of a life of pain and hate. But she'd pulled him down over her, hands gripping at his shirt, tugging. He'd hesitated then, and she'd pressed her hand against his heart, coaxing him, begging him to let her feel all of him. She'd seen them before, the scars, back on the farm, and he hadn't meant for her to. But she hadn't shied away. She'd traced her fingertips over each of them, as if trying to designate a good memory to each and every one to erase the bad. And when it was over, and he'd rolled over onto his back, she'd pressed kisses along his spine, made him feel, for the first time in his life, worthy of such love. And he didn't understand it. He couldn't understand how she could care for him the way she did. After everything, she could still look at him and see such goodness in him, when he'd had such hatred for himself for so long.

But she'd kissed him, held him tight, clung to him, whispered things against his ear that he'd only imagined her saying when he was alone some of those nights with his hand pumping furiously at an erection that always seemed to happen when he thought of her. Those nights, sometimes, he was sleepless because all he could think about was her.

He sighed softly, brushing his hand over her shoulder, watching the way her eyes moved beneath her lids as she slept. She was so peaceful with the tiniest hint of a smile playing over her lips, as if she was having a good dream in this nightmare world. And he wanted that for her. He wanted her to have a little bit of happiness after everything she'd lost. He'd just never imagined he could be the one to give her that happiness, to make her smile, to make her cry out as she shattered against him, as he pulled them both over the edge, together, entwined.

And he loved her. God, did he love her. And he'd wanted to tell her, but he hadn't brought himself to say the words. The only people in the entire world that he'd ever loved had been taken from him—his mother by the fire, his brother by The Governor—and he didn't want to believe in curses, but he'd always had bad luck. He'd never been given anything so good as freely as she'd given herself to him tonight. But she loved him. She whispered it against his ear, not looking for reciprocation but wanting him to know it, and he'd felt it. Nobody in his life had ever accepted him, knowing the kind of pain he'd grown up with, the kind of life he'd led before the world went to shit. But she did. She accepted him for all the good, all the bad, all the mistakes he'd made trying to pick himself up and find his way. She'd been there, and she'd seen it all. And she'd loved him, still.

His hand ghosted over her side, as she shifted, turning slightly toward the mattress, shadowing herself as the yellow glow on the lamp beside her bathed her back in warm light. He leaned in then, overwhelmed by the need to be close to her, to kiss her, to really feel that she was there. With him. He'd thought he'd lost her. First back at the prison, certain she was gone after finding her scarf near T-Dog's body. Then after Rick had banished her, leaving her out there on her own, more than capable but still alone. And then he'd seen her outside of Terminus, like a fucking angel coming to save them all.

He still remembered the way she felt against him, the way her arms were so strong around him, the way she trembled and sobbed as he squeezed her tight. He'd never wanted to let her go. He'd wanted to kiss her then, wanted to tell her how much he'd missed her, how after every horrible thing they'd been through, she was the one thing that kept him grounded, that kept him going. And then she'd tried to leave that night at the church, tried to slip out while nobody was paying attention. But he'd been paying attention. She'd been going through something, and back then, he hadn't had any idea the depths of Carol's pain. He knew now.

He still lay awake some nights seeing that car running right into her, watching her fly up onto the windshield and then roll to the ground, still. He remembered the panic and the fear bubbling up in his chest, Noah's hands pulling him back, restraining him as he fought with every bit of strength left in him to get to her, to help her.

"You gotta stop leavin' me like that," he murmured softly, scooting closer, gripping her bare hip with his calloused hand. He buried his face against her throat, inhaling deeply as she shifted gently on the bed. He felt her hands against his shoulders then, and he pulled his face back to see her eyelids flutter open slowly.

"You ok?" she asked sleepily, yawning as her hands gently squeezed his arms.

"Good," he said quietly. "Go back to sleep."

"You sure? You sleep yet?"

"Yeah," he said with a sleepy grin. It was a lie, but it didn't matter. It made her smile, and she brushed her fingertips over his forehead. She turned then, rolling over onto her other side, linking her fingers with his as he wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his chin against her shoulder, curving his body against hers. He kissed her right behind the ear, and she chuckled softly before yawning again.

"Time is it?" she asked softly, snuggling back against him, as he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck.

"Late," he promised.

"You leaving with Aaron tomorrow?"

"Nope."

"I have you to myself all day?"

"If you want?"

"I want," she whispered, squeezing his hand. He reached over her, turning off the bedside table light. "Good night."

"Night," he murmured, leaning over her just enough that when she turned her face, he pressed his lips against hers. She smiled against his mouth, sighing softly into the kiss. When he pulled back, he kissed her neck again, then her shoulder, then the spot between her shoulder blades. Finally, he rested his head there, and he felt her relax in his arms as sleep washed over her once again. He closed his eyes, listening to the strong, steady beat of her heart and let the melody lull him to sleep.


End file.
